Wicked Witch
by Rinoneechan17
Summary: There's a new girl in town, and one whom both Derrick and the Argents want on their side. Scott must learn why before the Alpha gets to her first. DerrickXOC, IsaacXOC Rated T for violence, language, and some sexuality


**Chapter 1**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf**

**Rated T for language, violence, and some sexuality**

**Enjoy and R&R**

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**Beacon Hills, California, Fall 2005...**

A large mansion glowed in the night. Screams of people trapped inside echoed through the forest. A girl of 18 years stood before the burning house. Her hair was black like a raven, and her eyes shined an unnatural green like an emerald. The girl noticed someone breaking a window on the first level of the house. She sighed and closed her eyes as a wall of flame blocked the window.

"Diane!"

The girl opened her eyes upon hearing her name. She sensed a presence behind her. "I knew it was only a matter of time"

Slowly, she turned around. A boy only a little younger than her stood several yards away. He had a boyish face with hazel eyes and spiky black hair. He gazed out behind her at the burning house, "Wha...what have you done?"

"What I had to, Derek."

A pair of clawed hands grabbed Diane by the neck and threw her down. An older girl, nearly a splitting image of the boy, pinned her down. "You stupid bitch! There are innocent people in there!"

"Get off me, Laura!"

"You're dead!" Laura reared her hand back.

"NO!" Diane bellowed and Laura fell off her, colliding with a tree.

The wind grew stronger, fueling the fire and increasing the screams inside. Laura found herself pinned to the tree, unable to move. Diane stood up and glanced at Laura with teary eyes. "I'm sorry, Laura. I had no other choice. She made me-"

Derek appeared behind her and dug his claws into her neck. He cried out in rage as he ripped her throat to shreds. Diane gasped and fell to the ground, clutching her stomach. Laura fell off the tree and onto all fours. The fire disappeared, leaving the night dead silent. Laura grabbed Diane by her jacket collar, "Why?! Why, Diane?!"

Diane gurgled as blood poured from her wound and mouth. She curled her bloodied lips into a smile as her green eyes faded to black. Laura quickly released her as Diane's body paled and turned to stone. Derek sniffled, "W-what happened to her?"

"She's gone," Laura growled. "She's gone."

**Beacon Hills Boutique, January 26, 2011...**

Derek Hale stood across the street from the shop. He watched it intently as movers closed up their empty truck and left. He quickly glanced up and down the street before walking across. As he reached to grab the door knob, something caught his eye. On the second level of the building, there was a line of fresh black paint. He sniffed then deepened his frown, "Mountain Ash."

He turned the knob and pushed the door open, causing the chime to signal his arrival. Carefully, he stepped inside and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Don't relax just yet, sugar. Walking in the door doesn't mean you're safe."

Derek snapped his attention to left wall. He hadn't noticed someone was there. A young woman was breaking down empty boxes, keeping her back to him. Derek kept his eyes on her, "I can take care of myself."

"Thats what all puppies think once they get a taste of independence." She took a exhausted sigh and turned to face him. Derek's eyes widened upon seeing her familiarity. He recognized her long raven-black hair and unnatural emerald eyes, even her Southern accent. Though, she was younger than he had originally thought.

"Who are you?"

"Crissy Harman," she nodded her head. "You must be the Hale boy everyone's been warning me about."

"My name is Derek."

"Nice to meet you, Derek." She gave him a polite smile and proceeded to open another box. "Unfortunately, my shop isn't ready, so you'll just have to come back in a couple days if you want a proper look around."

Derek circled around towards the opposite wall, "Depends on what you're selling."

"Oh, all kinds of stuff, Derek. Lotions, remedies, shampoos, body wash, teas, and herbal medicine...to start."

"And would any of your ingredients happen to be Mountain Ash?"

Crissy paused. She sighed and set the open box down. She turned to properly face Derek. "I didn't come here to start anything. There's just a basic protection spell against those who seek to cause me harm."

Derek leaned against the counter, "Someone as clever as you should've been able to sense that this town is unsafe."

"Je suis neutre."

"Je ne m'inquiète pas," Derek growled, suddenly angry. He pushed off the counter and approached her. "I'm sure you can sense that your kind is...unwanted...here. And I know that you know Hunters are here."

Crissy remained silent as Derek circled her. "If I find out, that you end up helping said Hunters...the For Sale sign is going to go back on the door, understand?"

Crissy swallowed hard, trying to stay strong against his intimidation. She quickly nodded and Derek backed off. He snapped his attention to the ceiling upon hearing a soft creak. "Who else is here?"

"No one important."

Derek gave her a death glare and headed for the stairs by the counter. Crissy suddenly appeared in front of him, blocking his way up. "I said, no one important is up there."

"Fine." Derek backed away and headed for the door. He stopped mid-stride, "By the way, did you know Diane Bertrand?"

Crissy shook her head, "No."

Derek narrowed his eyes at her before swinging the door open and slamming it behind him. Crissy let out a stifled cry. She hugged her herself and sank to the floor, trying to calm herself. "Pensées calmes maintenant."

**Beacon Hills High School, February 2, 2011...**

Lydia Martin slid along the floor and leaned against the lockers, "Hi."

Crissy eyed Lydia with confusion, "Hi." She closed her locker. "Can I help you?"

"No. But I can help you." Lydia pointed to Crissy's necklace. "Where did you get _that_?"

"It's a family heirloom. Just this. Everything else...I made," she said, gesturing to the rest of her jewelry.

"You make jewelry?" Lydia asked, impressed.

"Yeah. I own a boutique here."

"Really? I think you just earned yourself a new friend, Crissy." Lydia looped her arm through Crissy's and led her down the hall. "And judging by your accent, I can tell you're from...mmmm...Louisiana?"

"Yeah, I am," Crissy smiled. "You're good."

"Oh, you have no idea." Lydia led her over to another girl. The moment Crissy saw her, she froze. The girl was several inches taller than Crissy, but they had the same fair complexion, almond-shaped eyes, and slender nose. "Allison, this is Crissy from Louisiana. Crissy, Allison."

Allison had a slight frown on her face, "You look familiar, do I know you?"

"Maybe. Ever been to New Orleans?" Crissy asked, trying not to look agitated.

"Oh, yeah. I lived there for like 2 years when I was in elementary."

"Maybe we were in the same school," Crissy suggested. Allison nodded, agreeing. Crissy noticed a strange smell and glanced down the hall. Derek Hale shuffled away from the lockers and headed for the doors. Crissy turned back to Lydia and Allison. "I just remembered that I needed to see the Principal before I leave. See you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow," Lydia smiled.

"Bye," Allison said.

Crissy gave them a small smile and she took off down the hall. She shoved the doors open and scanned the parking lot. She zeroed in on Derek who sat on the road in front of a powder blue Jeep. Two boys helped Derek into the passenger's side of the Jeep, and she watched as the Jeep took off recklessly down the road.

**Beacon Hills Boutique...**

Crissy stood over a pot of boiling broth. She sprinkled some chopped up herbs and stirred. A loud buzzing roared through the room. Crissy paused for a moment then abruptly turned off the stove. She wiped her hands on a dish rag and left the room. She jogged down the stairs and swung around to the back of the store.

"I hear ya! I hear ya!" She yelled as the buzzing continued. She undid the bolt and a spazy boy fell through, swinging the door wide open. "What the hell?!"

"Sorry." The boy ungracefully got back to his feet. "Uh...so, he told me to bring you here."

He stepped further inside and revealed a pale, sweating Derek Hale who's hand was latched onto the boy's shirt. Crissy folded her arms under her chest, "What happened to you?"

"I...was shot..." Derek huffed as he leaned on the large island in the middle of the back room. He peeled off his shirt, exposing his wound. His infected veins stood out against his pale skin. The boy gagged upon seeing Derek's arm, "Oh, my God. Oh, my God."

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Crissy demanded.

"I'm Stiles. My best friend is a werewolf who is his student." He joked.

"Okay, _Stiles_, you wanna tell me why you dragged a half-dead Hale into my shop?" She turned to Derek who looked as white as paper. "Damn, you really are dying."

"Do you mind...helping me figure out whats...killing me?" he snapped.

"Why should I help you?"

Derek slammed his fist against the counter-top, "Because! Because...I'll retract my threat...I'll offer protection against them."

Crissy snorted and leaned on the island right across from Derek, "Protection from them? You can't even protect yourself. Look at you, a wounded dog."

Derek snapped his teeth at her. Crissy chuckled then grabbed Derek's wrist, pulling his arm towards her, forcing him to lay on the counter. "This may hurt."

She jabbed her index finger into Derek's wound. He cried out in pain and Stiles screamed in response. Crissy dug her finger as far as she could then abruptly pulled out. Derek sank to the floor and Stiles ceased his screams. Crissy examined her blood covered finger. She took a deep breath and stuck her finger in her mouth, licking the infected blood right off. Stiles gagged and groaned. Crissy licked the excess blood as she thought, "Damn."

Derek climbed his way back to his feet, "W-was that necessary?"

"It was. The bullet...is made of Monkshood." She went to the sink and quickly washed her hands. "A very specific kind of Monkshood."

"W-what?"

"Does Nordic Blue Monkshood mean anything?" Stiles asked, still groaning in disgust.

Crissy sighed and approached Stiles, "Who're you talking to?"

"S-Scott," Stiles said cautiously, leaning away from her. "He's...my best friend. Uh, your breath...totally smells, by the way."

"Tell your friend to bring a bullet here."

"Why?"

"Because I'm fresh out of rare Nordic Monkshood," she said, her voice thick with sarcasm. She narrowed her eyes at him and released her breath in his face. Stiles recoiled in disgust.

Crissy turned back to Derek who was breathing heavily with sweat dripping down his face. She examined his arm again, noticing that the infection was spreading faster. "We don't have a lot of time. Your friend needs to get here now, or else."

"Or else what?" Stiles asked.

Crissy caught Derek's gaze, but said nothing. She got up and began to rifle through the lower cabinets. "Stiles, do you mind grabbing the twine from the closet?"

"Twine?" Stiles found the closet and opened it. He furiously searched through it's shelves until he found a small roll of plastic twine. Crissy walked by and snatched it out of his hand. She quickly cut a long piece and tied it around Derek's upper arm where the infection hadn't reached. She tied it tight enough to close off circulation.

"What're you gonna do?" Stiles asked with a dreadful tone.

"If your friend doesn't get here in time, I'll have to restore to medieval measures," she explained as she set a kitchen saw down on the counter. "Amputation is the best cure for blood poisoning."

"W-w-w-w-wait!" Stiles stammered. "You're not serious. What if he dies from blood loss?"

"I'll heal," Derek huffed.

Crissy grabbed Stiles by his shirt and dragged him to the counter. "I need you to hold Derek's arm still. I have to make a clean cut...at least. By instinct, he's going to squirm."

"No, no, no, I can't-"

"Yes, you can," she said over him. "Now, hold him."

Stiles groaned in defiance, but obeyed. He grabbed Derek's wrist and pinned it against the counter. Crissy plugged in the saw and squeezed the trigger to make sure it was working. Stiles whimpered and closed his eyes, trying to hide. Derek gritted his teeth, preparing himself for the pain. Crissy leaned on Derek's shoulder as she held the blade over his arm. Before she could squeeze the trigger, the buzzer went off.

"Scott!" Stiles screamed. "In here!"

The door burst open and Scott entered. "I got it!" he exclaimed, holding up a bullet. His smile faded upon seeing Crissy and Derek. Scott's eyes glowed as he ran at superhuman speed, tackling Crissy to the ground.

"Scott! Stop!" Derek yelled.

Crissy shoved Scott back. He landed with a loud thud and the bullet slipped from his hand and rolled away. Derek's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fainted. Stiles went to Scott's side, "Dude! She's helping us!"

"She was gonna cut his arm off!"

"Because you are late!" she shouted back at him. "Where is it? Where's the bullet?"

Scott looked around and noticed it under the oven. He rolled onto his stomach and slid his hand underneath, desperately trying to reach it. Stiles crawled over to Derek, "Oh, God...I think he's dead! He's not waking up!"

"Just hold on!" Scott demanded. He squeezed his eyes shut then snapped them open. He sat up, "I got it!"

Stiles mumbled a prayer and slammed his fist into Derek's face, waking him up. Scott gave the bullet to Crissy. "Good. Now, get him back up. Come on!"

She opened a cabinet and grabbed a bottle of olive oil. "Stiles, hold his arm down again. Scott, hold him in a headlock."

"Wait, what're you gonna do?" Scott asked as he obeyed.

"Hold him still." Crissy pulled the bullet head off and dumped the powder onto the counter. She snapped her fingers over the pile and a spark emerged, causing the powder to quickly flare. She quickly scooped it all up into one hand. With her other, she grabbed the bottle of olive oil and filled her mouth. She then placed the burned gunpowder into her mouth as well. Scott and Stiles watched as she climbed up onto the counter. She placed both hands on either side of the wound. With her mouth full, she took a swift breath then latched her mouth onto the wound. Derek's eyes flared open and he screamed in sheer pain. Scott and Stiles struggled to keep Derek in place who began to growl like a wolf.

Crissy snapped her head up, her mouth stained with speckled oil. "Let go of him!"

Both boys immediately released Derek. He sank to the ground, curling his body inwards as he cradled his arm. His cries began to die down as he relaxed and rolled onto his back, revealing his perfectly healed arm.

"That was...awesome!" Stiles beamed. "Yes!"

"Is he okay?" Scott asked.

"He'll be fine," Crissy informed as she grabbed a towel and began wiping her mouth. "That was the best I could think of in the moment. If I had more time, it wouldn't have been so painful."

"Wait a second, what are you?" Scott demanded.

"Oh, this is Crissy Harman," Stiles introduced. "She's a...friend of Derek's, I guess."

Scott frowned at Crissy, "You're friends with Derek? No, that's not what I asked."

"I know what you asked," she glared at him. "You have a lot of nerve asking me that, _dog_. As for your offer Derek, I accept. Just...keep your distance."

She waved him off and went to the sink. Scott motioned to follow her, but Derek blocked his path, "Leave her alone."

"That's what you should be doing...to me! We saved your life, so stay away from me and Stiles, all right?" Scott demanded, his eyes full of panic. "Or else, I'm gonna go back to Allison's dad and tell him every-"

"You're gonna trust them?" Derek shook his head at Scott. "You think they can help you?"

"Why not? They're a lot freakin' nicer than you are!"

"Stop shouting," Crissy ordered. Scott and Stiles froze upon sensing the suddenly tense atmosphere. Even Derek tensed up. Crissy walked back around to join them, "I don't know what's going on here and I don't care. I have about an hour before my body shuts down due to the various poisons I've just ingested, so if you don't mind leaving, that would be wonderful."

"Seriously, what are you?!" Scott huffed.

"You really wanna know?" She eyed him daringly and Scott met her challenge. "Fine. Have it your way."

Crissy slammed her hands down on the island counter and climbed up on top. She sat on her knees and placed her fists against her thighs, facing upwards. She tensed up her whole body and tilted her head back until her face was completely illuminated by the ceiling light. The air thickened and the three of them backed away. An unnatural chill swept through the room and Crissy let out an inhuman cry as her skin turned gray. A black essence broke away from her body, and her color returned to normal. Scott and Stiles watched in amazement as the black essence dissipated.

"What the hell was that?" Scott demanded.

"Magic," Derek answered.

Stiles frowned and turned his confused frown to Crissy, "You're a witch?"

"Yes."

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**end of Chapter 1**

**please review**


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